


Sleep

by Halrloprillalar (prillalar)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Episode 12 Spoilers, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Sleeping Together, Yuuri and his decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prillalar/pseuds/Halrloprillalar
Summary: Takes place during Episode 12.
After their conversation in the hotel room, Yuuri can't sleep. Victor helps him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted a bit more about this scene and how they would be together afterwards.

There's so much awkwardness in the air, Yuuri thinks it's pushed all the oxygen out of the room. That's why his chest is tight and he can't catch his breath.

"You need to sleep," Victor says. He waits until Yuuri is under the covers, then he turns out the light.

Yuuri's bed shakes as Victor gets into his. Half the time, Victor crawls into Yuuri's bed instead, the other half, they end up in the middle anyhow, warm backs against each other or an arm thrown over or ankles tangling.

Yuuri thinks this time isn't either half. He rolls on his side, arm around his pillow, and stares into the dark. He thought he'd feel better when the words were out, instead of lying like a stone in his stomach or choking in his throat.

He rolls onto his back. That stone is gone but now it's the look on Victor's face that's weighing him down. Victor's words, Victor's tears. Yuuri is the crybaby, not Victor. And a few tears leak from his eyes now too, run down his temples, collect in his ears.

Victor's breath is so soft, Yuuri can barely hear it. He strains and counts each one, like he's trying to meditate, focus on the breath, just not his own.

He shifts his legs but he can't get comfortable. He's tired and sore, he's happy and sad. He's walked out further into the ocean than he's ever been before and he's waiting to see if he can swim.

"Yuuri." Victor's voice is nearly as soft as his breath. "Try to relax."

Yuuri settles his arms at his sides, stretches his legs just one more time before he holds them still. He counts his own breath, _one, one, one,_ tries to make Victor think he's drifting off.

The bed shakes and Victor rolls beside him, up onto one elbow. The hotel drapes don't close all the way and there's enough light to just see Victor's face, pale and unfocused. Not enough to see just how Victor is holding his mouth or whether there's a crease across his forehead.

The crease is starting to stay there all the time, just faintly, but whenever Victor asks if it's noticeable, Yuuri lies. And whenever Yuuri lies about it, Victor sighs and books another visit to the dermatologist.

Yuuri remembers now he's pretending to sleep but it's too late to close his eyes. He blinks instead, squeezing the water from them to the corners of his eyes. His teeth catch his bottom lip.

Victor doesn't move or even speak. In the washed out light, he looks almost like a marble statue, all expression smoothed from his face, and Yuuri is lying on the plinth.

The awkwardness in the room is compressed into the space between them and it's pushing Yuuri back into the mattress like a lead blanket, making his hair stand up like static electricity.

Victor puts his hand on Yuuri's head, rubs his fingers gently against Yuuri's scalp. "You need to sleep."

Usually those fingers in his hair are soothing, small points of warmth that grow and spread until Yuuri is warm all over and not counting his breath any more.

But tonight a spark jumps from Victor's fingers and tingles everywhere on Yuuri's skin. "Victor," Yuuri says and pushes up against the weight, through the static, and kisses Victor's mouth.

Their lips cling for a moment, then Victor pulls away. "I'm not going to dry your tears," he says.

"I know." Yuuri puts one hand on the back of Victor's neck and pulls him down.

They kiss for a long time, shifting and rolling, slow but urgent all the same. Yuuri throws the duvet back and strokes Victor's back, slides his hand up Victor's side, over his chest, touches his face. Pushes his knee between Victor's thighs, presses close wherever he can. He still can't stop crying and his tears wet Victor's face so that it shines a little in the dim.

Victor's fingers twist tightly in Yuuri's hair and Victor's mouth moves over Yuuri's face and mouth and throat. He's pressing closely too, his hip tight against Yuuri's erection, his own cock half hard on Yuuri's belly.

Yuuri reaches down between them but Victor catches Yuuri's hand. He holds it to his mouth, thumb on Yuuri's palm, lips to Yuuri's wrist where the pulse is beating. Then he rolls Yuuri over so he's facing the window.

Victor curls around Yuuri from behind. Yuuri twists his head, trying to find Victor's mouth, but Victor lays Yuuri's head back on the pillow and Yuuri lets him.

"You need to sleep," Victor says one more time, like he's the talking action figure Yuuri still has in a box, press the button to hear one of six phrases, but only one phrase still works.

Victor wraps his fingers around Yuuri's dick. It jerks in his hand, in a way that Yuuri still finds embarrassing, no matter how many times it happens, no matter how much he loves it when it's Victor's cock in Yuuri's hand.

"Can you reach?" Victor says and Yuuri fumbles for the lubricant in the night stand.

Victor moves his hand on Yuuri's dick, the long slow strokes he favours, with a swirl of the thumb across the head. He presses his foot up under Yuuri's foot, top to sole. He breathes onto Yuuri's neck.

Yuuri presses back wherever he can, closing the gaps so the awkwardness can't steal back in between them. He closes his eyes. He breathes through his mouth.

"Relax," Victor whispers and Yuuri wishes that he could.

This isn't the first time Victor has jacked Yuuri to sleep, not even the twentieth or thirtieth. It's soothing and it pulls the tension out of him like nothing else they've tried. Yuuri's not sure that it will work on him tonight. He's not sure that's what he wants.

He wants to flip Victor over, straddle his body, touch him everywhere, hands over every plane, fingers along every crease. He wants to see Victor's face changing, feel his breath speed, see his back arch. Wants to go down on Victor, feel Victor's cock against his tongue, suck him off until he's gasping, eyes open, so pleased to see Yuuri there.

But he doesn't move, just lets Victor stroke him and the rhythm soothes him after all, he's settling, eyes closed and no blood left inside his brain. Just the tension building.

"Don't think about it until after," Victor says, just when Yuuri was starting not to.

A flash of cold runs over him. But he's already too far along and while his skin is still pricking up in gooseflesh, he's choking down a cry and coming hard, on his stomach and on Victor's hand.

The fatigue hits him right away, it always does, with Victor's mouth still on his neck and Victor's hands still wiping them both off. It's working, he can't stay awake.

But he's still thinking about it, even while sleep rolls over him, and the last thing he feels as he's drifting off is Victor's hand sliding off his shoulder.


End file.
